Chapter Eighteen Murieall #2
Francine shook her head. “I do nae ken. Lady Magdalene sent me from the outer chamber to fetch fresh linen, and when I returned, Isabella was sleeping from the draught Lady Magdalene had given her, and Lady Magdalene held a bundle wrapped in cloth. She told me the bairn had been stillborn and that was all I needed to ken or say when anyone asked.” Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen with tears, met mine.
“But I swear by all that’s holy, I heard that child cry. ”
James patted her on the shoulder as she sniffled. “’Tis fine, lass,” he said, soothingly. “Go to yer bedchamber. I’ll come fetch ye to speak with Munro soon.”
“My laird will nae ever forgive me,” she whispered.
I didn’t know what Munro would do, but I gave her a quick hug. “Ye will tell him yer story, and he will have mercy.”
As soon as she scurried from the room, I turned to James. “He will have mercy, will nae he?” I asked.
James scrubbed a hand over his face. “Aye, he will in that she’ll keep her head, but Murieall, she lied, and that lie may have contributed to Isabella’s death.”
I shivered at that. “But what of her family, who needs her?”
“Munro is nae a monster,” James said. “He’ll see reason, and understand she was threatened and scared, but I can nae say if he’ll allow her to stay. If he does nae, I will personally see to her family’s welfare, though I imagine he would as well.”
I nodded. I’d have to be satisfied with that.
This truth had to see the light, even if it meant harsh punishment for Francine.
The weight of her confession pressed upon my chest, making it difficult to draw a full breath.
Isabella and Munro’s son had lived. He had drawn breath, had cried out, and then—what?
Had Magdalene silenced the infant, or had he died right after birth and his first cry, and she had been afraid that Munro and Isabella would blame her?
“I must confront Magdalene,” I declared, spinning to face James.
James looked at me as if I’d lost my wits entirely.
“Are ye mad?” he demanded. “We do nae ken what happened. If Magdalene murdered an infant, her own blood, do ye think she would hesitate to silence ye as well?” He grasped my arm, his fingers urgent but not painful against my skin. “We must approach this with caution.”
I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “There’s nae time for caution, and I do nae care about my safety! I only care about getting the truth for Munro.”
The words hung in the air between us, their truth resonating in the small chamber. I loved Munro, and even if he never forgave me, even if he sent me away, at least I could give him the truth before I was banished.
Just as James opened his mouth to respond, the air in the chamber seemed to thicken, and that now-familiar scent of roses washed over me. Then came a whisper, then Isabella’s voice, sharp and clear.
Magdalene pushed me, and Gordon let me fall. They were conspiring to drive me mad and to take the lairdship from Munro. She killed our son because there could nae be an heir in her way. Ye must tell Munro!
The edges of my vision darkened as the horror of her revelation crashed through me.
Magdalene had killed the bairn and pushed Isabella off the cliff.
Had Gordon known about the bairn? About what his wife had done?
Had they planned before the birth that if Isabella had a boy, an heir, Magdalene would kill the child?
I moaned at the thought. Isabella had said that ‘Gordon had let her fall’, so no matter what, he was an accomplice to Isabella’s murder.
And they both remained at Munro’s side, trusted advisors who had been slowly poisoning him against those who truly loved him.
“Murieall!” James cried, rushing to catch me as I swayed on my feet. His arms encircled me, holding me upright as the shaking intensified. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I couldn’t speak. My teeth chattered with the force of my trembling, and my breath came in ragged gasps that failed to fill my lungs. James pulled me closer, supporting my weight as my knees threatened to give way entirely.
“Breathe,” he urged, genuine fear in his voice. “Just breathe, lass.”
I clung to him, desperate for any anchor as Isabella’s revelation continued to echo in my mind.
Before I could find my voice to tell James what I’d heard, the door burst open with a crash that made both of us jump.
There in the doorway stood Munro, eyes narrowed and face flushed.
Behind him loomed Gordon, lips pressed then but with the smallest quirk upward as if he struggled not to smile.
“Munro,” I breathed, trying to push away from James, to explain, but my legs wouldn’t support me, and James dared not let go lest I collapse entirely.
In that frozen moment, I saw the truth of us through Munro’s eyes. Conspirators. Lovers. This scene confirmed his worst fears. And just beyond him stood one of the true betrayers. I opened my mouth to tell him all of this, and that’s when Munro bit out to his uncle, “Take her.”
“Nay!” I yelled before Gordon was across the room and set his palm across my mouth to drag me from the room.